Coming Home
by Evildevilangel
Summary: After James and Lily's deaths, Remus has fled to Scotland. But how long can he expect to stay away from home? A bittersweet sort of affair. R/S


**Disclaimer: For entertainment purposes only, no copyright infringement/profit. **

Remus had embedded with a pack in Scotland. He liked the sound of "embedded" because it sounded a lot better than "started running and then fell asleep on a boat and kept running once it reached shore and then kept running until the full moon after which he proceeded to wake up with a bunch of other werewolves." It was shorter, for one thing. It also sounded like what one did in a war, as opposed to what one did after his best friends all died and his lover was buried alive in prison. He knew what to do in a war.

Then there was a flash of light across the sky and Kingsley Shacklebolt showed up in Scotland of all places. "People are starting to wonder where you are," Kingsley said in that quietly booming voice of his.

"Is there any chance you can convince them that wondering further would be very bad for their health?" Remus asked dryly. He was unsurprised when Kingsley shook his head without even smiling. Weren't people supposed to go back to smiling after a war?

"You were grieving. That was six months ago. Now you are returning to the world of the living." He attempted to hand Remus a worn suitcase.

It sat on the ground between them. "I am currently unqualified for the world of the living." Some part of his brain knew that Kingsley was a good friend for coming out to the middle of nowhere to find him. A larger part of his brain wanted to go find a hiding place deep enough in the center of nowhere that he couldn't be found.

"People will become suspicious. It would not go well if you were investigated for your involvement with-"

"I understand that." He braced himself for what Kingsley would surely say next.

"It's what Sirius would have want-"

Remus felt the energy move back into his limbs for the first time in months, and it was all directed at sending his fist towards Kingsley's mouth. "_He_ does not get to have wants. Wants are for people in the world of the living. Wants are for people who don't betray their friends. Wants are for people who _come home_."

He was aware that his voice was breaking and his cheeks were suspiciously warm and wet. He was shaking Kingsley, who could probably break him in half but chose not to move. Suddenly his legs were weak and the only reason he didn't hit the ground was two thick arms covered in leather wrapped around him. The sight of leather moved something in his chest and then he was the one shaking.

"Do you have any personal effects that will require packing?"

Remus considered a snide remark but that part of his brain sounded too much like Sirius. And it was probably a bad idea given that Kingsley was still holding him up. "No. They're still at… at…" The air wouldn't go into his lungs.

"Excellent. We are going now."

Remus felt his bones expand and contract unpleasantly and suddenly the two of them were standing in front of a tidy brick duplex. The noises sounded like London, but much quieter than he remembered. He touched the door to make sure it was solid, and lurched out of Kingsley's arms.

"You will be staying here. Dumbledore thought it would be best."

Remus nodded. He was unsure if he was grateful to be going somewhere other than his old home, or heartbroken to be so close to his old life without the comforts of home. "Thank you." Grateful, then.

Kingsley handed him a key and put a hand on his shoulder. "Floo if you need anything." The werewolf nodded and walked through the door and up the stairs.

The flat was already furnished, food in the cupboards, books and radio in the living room and such. He fingered the radio dial and realized he no longer remembered the number of his favorite station. Still, the radio crackled to life and Remus listened intently. His slender fingers played with the knobs until a familiar song came on. He began to explore the books, humming along as he went. The announcer came on, and Remus jerked.

"_You're listening to 79.3! Stay tuned for more of the-" The radio suddenly went quiet._

"_I was listening to that!" Remus shouted, half stuck under the couch as he felt around for a lost quill. _

_Sirius smirked, holding his hands behind his back. "Unfortunately, so was I."_

"_Nat King Cole is a classic!"_

"_Why is it that 'classic' always means 'boring' when you say it?" asked Sirius as he moved closer to the couch. _

_Remus glared and continued foraging. "Because I have more taste than you."_

_The older boy wiggled his eyebrows. "We could test that."_

"_Sirius!" He laughed and nearly choked on a cloud of dust. "I am a bit busy hunting at the moment."_

"_Well, hunt no more, dear Moony," he proclaimed as he got down on one knee, "for I have found you the fairest quill in all the land!" He produced a feather from behind his back, and proceeded to tickle his friend with it for at least half an hour. _

Remus shook his head and sprinted to the radio, but he paused with his hand on the dial. Out the window, he saw a vaguely familiar alley. He could almost feel a hand in his.

"_Where are we going?" laughed Sirius in that concerned-yet-not tone of voice that only adventurers have as the smaller man led him out of the muggle club. _

_Remus looked around the dark brick alley quickly. "Here."_

"_He-" Sirius began to ask but was cut off by a mouth on his. _

"_Mmmmhmmm," hummed the werewolf as his tongue covered familiar ground. He pushed them back until he felt rough brick against the back of his hands. One hand cradled Sirius's head while the other ran up and down his sides. _

"_G-gotcha," he replied shakily as Remus's mouth moved to that spot just below his jaw. His hands struggled to find and undo the buttons on his friend's shirt. They stilled at the sound of a door slamming nearby. "Bed," Sirius said confidently as Remus felt his bones begin to stretch. _

Remus stared at the dark wooden floors, the white walls, anything but out the window. That club was in a hip, loud neighborhood surrounded by bars, not cute duplexes with window boxes. It was a place from a different time, and no amount of remembering could bring him back to it.

Frank Sinatra began to croon out of the radio, and Remus reached again to turn it off. He could almost feel familiar hands on his waist, breath tickling his ear as it teased him for being such a girl. He began to lean forward to rest his head on a warm chest before he remembered there were only air and memories before him.

He paused for a moment and started to sway along with the music. His heart ached, but it also felt wrapped in something warm and comforting. Perhaps, he thought, this lonely place could also be home.


End file.
